Because Hamma Hurt Me EmotionallyAnd Physically
by Dr. Abraxas
Summary: While she was a prisoner she was taught a very corrupt form of waterbending and she uses it on Sokka - much to his delight.


Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**"Because Hamma Hurt Me Emotionally...And Physically"** by **Abraxas** 2009-01-12

Appa and the group took flight that dawn. It had been a very non eventful couple of days at the village and it was time to resume their trek. The gang was not yet in danger of missing the rendezvous with the fleet but moment by moment it was getting close. They, even the Avatar, were anxious; they were nervous about the events - the confrontations - yet to come.

Curiously, Sokka - the leader determined beyond obsession to keep the group on schedule - seemed uncharacteristically sad to be leaving. As the rest of the gang laughed, trading stories about the town and its people, the warrior was silent. He kept looking back at the village, once huge, now tiny, like a cobweb of streets with houses between.

And Hamma's house, at the edge of the wilderness, was fading, dimming - melting into the forest.

Only a corner of it was visible until it, too, vanished obliterated by the cover of clouds.

Sokka sighed.

Resting his head in his hand, he shut his eyes and thought about Hamma. Already he missed that sweet old lady. He hoped to see her again. Yes, he wished it, then and there, he wanted not just to see her but, like a Knight battling the dragon, to save her from her torment and to return her to her Tribe. He did not think about what would have happened next, what kind of relationship was possible between a woman and a boy, except that he fancied himself to be playing the usual role of protector. He only wanted to make her happy, really, and to justify the truth of what she imagined about him, that impelled her to treat him like that and everything, that he was worthy.

"My warrior," he recalled her saying, cooing into his ear. It was almost like the voice of Gran Gran - and, strange as it was, there was no shame in making that connection. She was a sweet old woman and that was the voice of such a creature. "My warrior, my strong, brave warrior, you'll come to my rescue, won't you?"

It was role playing, of course, she liked it and he liked it and it made it easy to do what was to be done.

"You look upset," Katara said, squeezing his shoulder.

Sokka smiled although he was annoyed to be shaken out of that memory.

"We've got to return," he said. "After the war, I mean, I mean we can't just leave Hamma behind."

She nodded.

"I want to see Hamma go back home, too, Sokka," Katara added. "She's lived through so much. I don't want to imagine what she survived..."

He kissed his sister's cheek then refocused by studying the schedule.

He did not want to think about it yet the fear was there, always and forever there. It was unspoken yet understood. As long as the war raged it was a possibility that Hamma cemented into reality. To know what would be done to her if she were caught by the Fire Nation? If she were forced to endure what happened with Hamma even for a day it would have destroyed his mind.

He did not repeat what Hamma said about captivity when they were together - the words could not be put together - language itself failed to describe those depths of inhumanity.

And yet that she could be so tender with that power - someway, somehow - he hated the Fire Nation a little more.

* * *

Sokka waited until the house fell into silence. Only the snoring and those bits of dreams uttered by the group echoed about the bedroom they shared. So he believed it was safe as he slid out of the sleeping bag and tiptoed against the floor - it was creaky with each and every step echoing like a burst of thunder.

He paused unsure if to continue with slow motion walking or with quick, long striding. He opted to jog out of the bedroom until he recalled it - he was about to leave without that very important something. And he did not want to disappoint the lady. But he stopped in the middle of the chamber so again he faced the agony of having to sneak about like a criminal.

As long as his sister was asleep he was fine. She was not someone who could be easily lied to. Aang would not be a problem. Toph would not be a problem, either, except that she could be dangerous if she wanted. She was able to sense between truth and lie and, if she faked sleep, she would be able to 'see' perfectly not just what happened in that chamber but throughout the whole entire house. It was impossible to hide anything from Toph.

So he was careful to avoid any kind of noise.

He probed through his sack and removed a box. A wooden box, thin and long, with letters burn into its lid. 'Hakoda' it read. Carrying it under his arm, angling toward the exit, he reached that doorway and slid its frame aside - it was such a horrible, horrible sound.

"Hmmm, what is it?" Aang asked through a yawn.

"Nothing. It's a door. It's just a noisy, god awful door. Go back to sleep, Aang," he answered, gesturing to sleep although in the night it was hard to see that motion.

Sokka tried to act natural, as if he were only stepping aside a moment.

Aang re wrapped himself. Sokka saw through the corner of the eye while exiting into the hallway that Toph turned toward the opposite side of the bedroom. He sighed and hoped that was the end of it.

He did not want to be interrupted. He really, really did not want to be interrupted. Worse - he did not want anybody eavesdropping.

He was excited yet nervous despite everything. A part of it was like dying of embarrassment too but that did not matter. Earlier it had been play - now it would be real. And he wanted to be a perfect warrior for Hamma. She deserved that much after years of torture and humiliation.

Sokka sneaked into the kitchen downstairs where supper had been cooked. There, by the sink, he lit a lamp. He placed the box atop a counter and opened it. A hide, unwrapped. A set of brushes, washed by water. Other, little trinkets of ivory, weathered and broken. Paints were smeared into those cups of tusks and arranged from left to right, from lighter to darker color.

Head hung and eyes shut, he stopped to meditate the way his father taught him. Then, relaxed, he started the ceremony.

Although it was not a preparation of war, he felt he owed it to his ideal of manhood to perform the act the true and proper way. As far as he was concerned, he fought the enemy for one reason alone: to protect what he loved. Heroism was an act of love and that philosophy was extended into the tradition of battle among his people. They were not the savages the Fire Nation believed them to be - war was an act of survival.

While it had been induced by war that night was going to be different.

Hamma was a victim of it, just like he and his sister were victims of it, there were a great number of commonalities that linked those two generations. Clinging onto each other, woman and boy, being kind the only way they knew how, if it pleased the water-bender to see again the face of a warrior there could be no harm with that. He was already in the service of his people so that night would be like every other night - he would be a solider pressed into a very unusual kind of service but a service nevertheless.

Ready, he returned the objects to their places within the box then he killed the lamp - then he snuck into the basement of the house.

* * *

Thanks to the break they enjoyed at the village, Appa was strong enough to make very good time that day. A fact that did not go unnoticed with Sokka. When they stopped a very appreciative tribesman rubbed the bison's head and the beast, pleased by the affection, licked the man's face without protest. The group also noted that change of attitude between Sokka and Appa and they seemed to be happy too.

They were fortunate that their trek through the Fire Nation was, at least up to that point, going rather smoothly. It was, no doubt, a reflection of Lord Ozai's arrogance that he felt so free of the threat of invasion that he allowed the land to be so loosely monitored. It reassured the Avatar that the Fire Nation was not invincible and that its hubris might be the key of the downfall.

The moon was full that night.

Sokka smiled at it. He did not feel regretful about what happened that night. Except that they could not take Hamma with them. It was very different with Yue and Suki. With Yue it was guilt that he should have been stronger. With Suki it was a mix of those long journeys apart and those brief moments together. It always felt like a disappointment. He wanted to be steady with Suki; maybe if they lived together like a real mated pair, like his father and mother, then he would not feel as if he was using her. Truth was the boy was confused by his emotions - they were too raw and new.

His expectations did not always match reality and he supposed it was natural that teenagers would be angsty yet he was surprised he would be tormented by such feelings of love and devotion.

He wanted to be so much like his father that unless he too settled with a wife and children he was incomplete as a man. A failure!

That should have quelled any sort of feelings toward Hamma. But love was love and, anyway, it did not matter that a relationship with Hamm would be ill fated because it was not about forming a marriage. It was about filling a void in their souls and that was that. Two people could be friends and fulfill such a need, right?

His feelings for that kind old woman did not fit the pattern of any previous relationship. And while he knew Hamma less than a few days, less than Yue and Suki, and though much of what happened between them was secret, he was not tortured by despair like he would have been if it was either of the girls. Maybe they knew what they were doing? Maybe they recognized it was just two lost souls playing roles they craved?

Looking at the moon, with the furs of the blanket about his face, he could not help but sympathize - she was a sweet old woman.

Such as it was, acting, indeed they knew their parts. One wanting rescue. One needing to rescue. What a well defined relationship! Complete with beginning, middle, and end.

* * *

It was morning - the second day spent at Hamma's house. Aang wanted to explore the village and play with Appa. Katara and Toph asked to go buy what they needed for a feast that night - they were given a list of ingredients that resembled Antarctic style food. And they left Sokka to do a few household duties.

"It's good to have a man about the house," said Hamma, smiling while hanging onto Sokka's arm. "I hope you won't be too bothered by these, these things only a big strong man can do."

The warrior blushed unable to keep the woman from dragging him room to room.

"There's so much to do that a little old woman like me just can't do," she explained while rubbing the tribesman's arm and feeling - no - squeezing a muscle of the biceps.

Sokka tried to be stoic about the fondling even while Hamma laughed amused by what she felt.

The first, arduous task was chopping wood - then bringing the rails into the house. Afterward there were a slew of these little, annoying jobs. The worse of it involved moving furniture then fixing furniture. Floorboards creaked and needed nailing. Doorways jammed and needed sanding. - The was a lot of going up and down stairs.

He was getting tired though he did not express it. She noticed it, indeed, eagerly, anxiously expected it.

To repay the labor Hamma fixed Sokka a bath. Within the basement she setup the vat - a tall, narrow cylinder of wood large enough to fit two adults - she forced water out of the earth into the tub. Then, with a few logs that he cut, she started a fie under the sauna until it heated the water.

She brought the boy down into the basement and showed the offering. Again, blushing, he accepted the escape that water offered. She withdrew into the antechambers of the cellar leaving him alone to undress. Without wondering if he could be watched, it was a habit not to care about it, he stripped and entered the cauldron.

The fire was beating under the tub but its heat only slowly seeped through the wood. The water was hot at the bottom and cold at the top. A current was flowing between those two layers.

Sokka bent his knees to sink into the tub. He spread his legs to keep stable. There was no seat therefore he kept his back against the wall. He kept his neck at the rim while his arms rested along that edge.

Within minutes the temperature leveled and he did not shiver - he was so relaxed he did not notice that Hamma returned if, indeed, she left.

He opened his eyes and gazed at the wide, long windows at the edge between wall and roof. It was a basement and the view through those slits was a weird angle of the world beyond the house. Only parts of the sky could be seen through a forest of grass. A breeze ruffled the foliage and a woodsy, fresh scent invaded the chamber.

He sighed aloud and it drew the woman's attention.

"Well, you certainly were tired, weren't you?" she asked. "I hope I didn't overload you with work."

"Hm, it was a lot of work, you know. Cutting all of those logs," he said, jokingly. He folded his arms behind his head rather smugly too. "But, yeah, it's all in a day's work."

The woman was amused by the boy's tone.

"It must be tiring being the only man in your group," she added. "Indeed, the only trained warrior. And with the Avatar, too, you must be very strong and brave to protect something that important."

"It is a burden," he said. Smiling, opening his eyes again, he gazed about the chamber. He heard but could not see the woman. She was there, he was sure of it, and her words were framed by the familiar swishing sound of laundry worked on by water-benders. She must have been cleaning his clothes in a sink behind the vat. He looked to verify it. "That's very nice of you, Hamma, thank you."

"Oh, that's not a problem." She sighed. "I do miss doing these sorts of things for a man. As much as I miss a man doing these sorts of things for me. It reminds me of my life way back when with my brothers and all of the warriors. I was older then, too, and I took care of them."

"You didn't settle with a man after..." He tried to find the word until his embarrassment of his curiosity turned speech into stutter. "I mean - er - I mean..."

"Sokka, I know what you mean," she interrupted. She flung the warrior's blue uniform onto a clothesline then bent the water out of it - it splattered against a wall then collected into a drain.

"I couldn't do it. All of my life my heart was set - I only wanted to be with a warrior. They were so brave, you know, fighting to protect us - me - the last of the waterbenders. We were by and large women, you know, it's strange but true. In the North it's men but in the South it's women who dominate the waterbending. And it always made the boys eager to be useful, complementing their skills with our abilities. I always thought it was so adorable," she blushed, thinking back of things that were and were not anymore. "Anyway, I wanted to show my appreciation."

Sokka relaxed as the water massaged his body. Alternating its touch, from tight to loose, its grip kneaded his muscles. It turned into a pounding that vibrated his bones.

"Hmmm, maybe I can show my appreciation - a little of it - maybe somebody needs to be appreciated and would be willing..."

His whole entire body, everywhere, was engulfed by that water and pleasured by its motion. He sunk so deeply into that realm of satisfaction that it slipped his mind that Hamma was doing it. Indeed that she was feeling him, driving him into a very happy blissful state.

"This - is a very nice kind of appreciation," he sighed and she laughed. He saw her face smiling, reflecting off of the water which was so crystal clear - and then he realized she could be seeing right into the tub.

Bashfully, he tried to cover what bit of dignity was left

She squeezed his shoulders and whispered:

"Please, Sokka, don't be embarrassed. You're such a warrior with so much to be proud of, believe me, don't be afraid." She untied the knot that kept his warrior's wolf's tail together - it unwrapped itself with a squirt of hair that clumped into wet and long strands across Hamma's fingers. "It's such a pleasant human reaction, isn't it? Doesn't it soothe? Doesn't it make you happy? It pleases me as it pleases you. And it makes me feel like a woman, again, not this...hag."

He blinked and blushed. "Hamma," he said, almost sleepily, his hair falling shot after shot onto his scalp. "I don't think of you like that."

She squeezed his shoulders then let her hands slide down the slope of his arms.

At first he could have died of embarrassment. To be trapped by such a delicate position. Wet. Naked. Clothes too far to reach. And mixed with an old woman - an old woman he was not related to - who did not know the meaning of modesty! He did not know how to handle it but, little by little, he rationalized his way out of awkwardness - clearly, she had been the eldest and surrounded by brothers and she had been living with warriors throughout the struggle she faced so situations like that happened all of the time.

Sokka relaxed realizing he could be totally and completely comfortable with Hamma. Without embarrassment. Yes, she was so sweet and kind, what harm was it to be reminding her of the way life used to be if it pleased her a little?

* * *

While the group slept under the stars and the moon, Sokka reached into his clothes to rub away that ache.

Despite the distance they covered, it felt as if Hamma's power continued to exert itself. It was there, there, there - all throughout his body. Still tightening. Still loosening. Massaging the tension. Or could it be that, stirred by memory, his body craved the touch of an expert?

He was exhausted after what happened that night. He did not complain about the work. That would have broken the drama. Yet, thinking about the nature of the play, he wondered if he could have said something about it.

But he did not want to disturb the woman. And he reasoned she would not know any other way

"You poor, poor thing," he whispered. "Maybe I could have taught you..."

Regardless, it was not for him, it was for her. For Hamma! To fulfill a life long wish. He was not going to interfere just because it felt uncomfortable. A warrior always sacrificed their own needs and comfort.

* * *

Masked by a face of white and gray, like a wolf, Sokka stepped into a slant of lamplight.

Hamma knelt in front of the warrior. She gripped his hands with her hands and drew the figure into the warmth of her body. She folded her arms around his waist and nestled her head onto his chest.

For a while they remained like that, embracing, one standing, one kneeling.

"You need a warrior to protect you?" he asked through a low, heavy breath.

Sokka's heart skipped a beat. Excitement surged through his body. It was something he fantasized asking Yue so many, many times but was too afraid to make it known. Then and there, though, it seemed like the natural thing to do.

"I need a warrior to be with me," she replied. "I fear the night. Its loneliness. Its cold, bitter loneliness. I need a warrior who will not be afraid, even, to die," she begged, tightening the hold of his waist. "Would you be that warrior?"

Again he felt a rush - that she replied in kind, the way he fantasized Yue would have replied, it added fuel to a fire already burning.

Still - he could not deny he was nervous and he saw that she, too, was anxious. He was relieved that he found she too was uneasy. That assured, strangely enough, that they were free to be without inhibition. There would be no awkwardness if they were equally playing off of each other - one suggesting, one responding, the story growing organically.

He stroked her hair with the back of his hand.

"It is a long winter night, my lady," he said, raising her chin. "Let us make a fire."

There were exchanges of glances, tense and fleeting touches, it was like two virgins meeting

"Share you warmth with me, my warrior, I'm so cold, so cold," she said, kissing the palm of his hand.

She leaned backward while he shivered.

Suddenly - not for the first time and not for the last time - suddenly he felt self conscious. He hesitated although by then he understood he was too deep into the act to quit. Then he smiled at the old woman. Why be so afraid now, he wondered, was his body telling him he was going too far too soon?

Sokka stepped forward to allow Hamma a complete view

A belt, unbuckled, tumbled onto his feet - a cloak of blue blanketed the sight.

* * *

"When I was a prisoner I was kept inside a special kind of cell. Without windows to see the world. And without the company of others. It was so I could be visited privately."

Sokka blinked, looking downward onto Hamma's face. He was standing next to the tub, water trickling, drop by drop, from his body to the floor. The cool breeze of summer dried his skin.

Standing side by side, he embraced the woman by the waist, to comfort with a squeeze.

She stroked the boy's back down the length of his spine.

"They visited you?" he asked, as calm as possible.

"No, well, no - not like that," she started to explain. "You fear it happening to your sister, don't you, is that why it scares you? Why you wish to defend her?" He shook his head and tightened his clasp. "She's a very lucky girl to have a warrior like you. I was not that fortunate. I was forced to do the act only with my waterbending. There was no direct human contact. By shaming us and corrupting its use, it was part of a plan to lead us into abandoning our culture." She patted his skin with her fingers. "Something as simple as this, a touch from one warm body to another, was denied for years. I admit, I hungered. I wanted contact, any kind of contact, even though it debased everything I believed. What I learned to do satisfied a very primal urge. Soon it became something to do that took my mind off of my situation. And, well, I learned a great deal about the art of waterbending too. The best part of it was that they didn't know. They didn't suspect! I was very good at what I did and I started to think about ways of using that skill to escape. All the while, though, while my body was corrupted, my mind was not - I always pictured myself with a Water Tribe warrior. I was your age at the beginning of my sentence so I always thought about boys like you. Coming to me with their faces painted like that. It warmed me at night, it did, the thought of being rescued."

He blushed, looking downward, gazing at her fingers massaging his skin. He had not been that way with any other girl. And it was impossible to imagine engineering a situation where he could have been so naked, literally and figuratively, with girls like Yue and Suki. But with Hamma everything was different. It was natural and not to be ashamed of.

There was nothing she was uncomfortable with and, so, he was not ashamed. Even if everything were to be exposed. Even him at his most vulnerable. He knew there would be safety in that old woman's arms.

"I felt the flavor of warriors once, now, Sokka, the memory of it is so fleeting."

Sokka eased his embrace - Hamma held his elbows.

"I'd like you to do something for me. Something for me I allowed no body to do. Yes, after I broke out of prison, when I applied my perverted waterbending skill, I did not let anybody do it. It was a boundary I would not cross - because it was, you see, only a thing a warrior of the Water Tribe was able to do. A warrior, a man, like you, Sokka."

Sokka's head twitched backward. His face flashed a grimace of agony and ecstasy. All of his life he had not imagined a sensation like that was possible. His body trembled, his knees failing, buckling, his hands reached for the edge of the tub.

"Hamma..."

"That's a good boy, let it all out, let it all out..."

Sokka was speechless. His pulse surged. His breath raced. The world seemed to be a blur. The feeling of it. The experience of it! Such a raw and powerful display - and to be unashamed of showing it. He knew then and there what it was like to be a man.

"That's - er - that's," he struggled to find the words, his mind, like his body, was numb after the session. "That's an incredible power." He gasped, still trying to catch his breath. "I didn't know water benders were capable of that."

"You see, now, don't you, Sokka. There's water in all sorts of places. In places you'd never imagine. In air. In trees. In rocks. And, especially, in all of the parts of our bodies. They believed we would be so embarrassed of it we would not practice waterbending again but, fools, I turned it into a weapon. The Fire Nation was helpless that night."

He smiled not wanting to know the details of that escape.

"Sokka, come to me tonight, protect me tonight. Be my warrior just for a spell..."

* * *

"Hamma!" he wept, under the cover of the blanket, his fingers wet and warm.

**END**


End file.
